The Doctor
by Out of Custody
Summary: Years after the war Severus returns to find the woman he's not been able to forget. (AN: I am almost sorry that it is already over...)
1. Introduction

**The Doctor **

**Introduction**

**Do not own. Yet, please do enjoy.**

* * *

Severus Snape was in a dire situation. Minerva was frantic, stumbling ever so often over the rim of her robe or an odd root, as she levitated the body of the unconscious man over the battlefield – it was sheer luck that she had found him, but they were even more lucky that he was still alive.

_Quick thinking of Hermione's part, no doubt_, the witch thought as she hurried over the slippery grass-plain of Hogwarts. If her charms had been correct – and if they weren't she should retire from her post as professor – then the reason Severus was still alive was because of a bezoar and a well-placed _petrificus_ that would stop the blood-flow. And the headmistress highly doubted that either Harold or Ronald would have thought of such a thing much less execute the charms in a stress-situation, as this one.

Finally she made it to the stairs of Hogwarts, stumbling yet again when she took the first two stairs, ripping her gown. She had no time for caring though; even knowing that she was quickly – all too quickly for her liking – reaching her limits. She had to still collect their wounded or even fallen comrades... after she'd delivered her friend and colleague to the infirmary where hopefully he would be saved. When she arrived, the infirmary was filled with patients, survivors of the war, most of them standing or sitting already, having been healed by either Poppy or any other nurses. Surprisingly, it was Hermione herself, who welcomed her and ushered her towards an empty bed to place the Professor.

A quick nod of the young witch assured Minerva that everything would be fine from now on, Hermione knew what she had to do – she'd been in training for years now; had started as a student-assistant in her third year and had never looked back. She knew that she could trust the witch to take care of Severus, he was in capable hands. Heavy weight lifted off her shoulders as she stood and watched the young witch start to work, before she nodded to herself again and turned, finding more survivors.

* * *

Hermione took a deep breath as she ripped the shirt off her professor's body, dispelling the _petrificus_. At once the blood started to leak out of the severe wound, the man beneath her gasping from the struggle to breathe – much like he'd done when she had cast the spell in the first place. Wasting no time, she pushed her hands to his naked chest, releasing the magic within her, allowing it to seep into the body of her professor.

Healing had always interested her and being best friends with Harry and Ron, she had learned simple healing spells quite early. Hermione had started to get really proficient in her third year, healing gashes silently and it had been that particular year that Poppy had caught her healing a first-year. The nurse had wasted no time asking her to become an apprentice and Hermione had never looked back. Poppy had taught her well, had encouraged her to learn more and introduced her to people who furthered her knowledge and her abilities. She had been shocked when Poppy had pulled her aside after the immediate battle had been over and had demanded that she would occupy the infirmary with them, she'd be needed, the witch had said. And Hermione admitted that indeed she felt needed: no matter where she looked, people came in bleeding or hexed, hoping to be relieved of their pain.

But she'd been shell-shocked when her professor had entered the infirmary, the _petrified_ body of Snape floating behind her – there had been no time for asking questions or wondering, time was precious in the case of her potions professor and she'd realized that she would not be able to ask either Poppy or any of the other medi-witches what to do, she had to do this on her own; and Minerva had entrusted her this patient.

Closing her eyes, she gave in to her healing intent – as she had been taught by Lucinda, head-healer of the Saint Andrew's Order, known around the wizarding-world for the exceptional healers they educated. The older witch had fuelled the healer intent within her – the intent to heal and to do good, as was expected from a healer. And Hermione found that she readily adapted to the way of St Andrew's head-healer.

The magic poured out of her fingertips and her palm, spreading through the body beneath her. It was obvious that the venom had attacked his magic before anything else for the magic within a wizard could mean his survival even if every bone within him or her was shattered – she was deeply astonished at the sheer willpower with which the professor had kept himself alive. It gave her some hope for the man though – he, of all people, would deserve to survive and finally be able to live the life that he so pleased to lead.

It took her time to heal the gashes and the inner damages, especially the damages in the lungs which were pumped with blood and venom – but when she had finished, she opened her eyes to see a completely healed professor in front of her. His cloak was still ripped where the Snake had bitten him, but other than the tender flesh of a scar nothing was visible.

About to leave his side, she was surprised when, unerringly, his hand flew to hers, arresting her in her movement. "Don't leave." He breathed rasping and despite herself, Hermione smiled, slowly guiding a hand to his head, once again letting her magic take over herself.

* * *

Minerva watched the scene with rapt attention. Just having entered with a few Aurors, she was arrested by the sight of her star-pupil bent over the potion's professor, a small smile playing at both their lips. Hermione's right hand was placed softly – almost lovingly – at the forehead of Severus, while her left hand was cradled in his own, larger one.

She had not seen Severus smile this sincere for ages. Of course by now she was used to his sarcastic smirks, to his sinister smiles or even the occasional – but unusual – barely visible twitch of his lips. But it took her some really hard thinking to remember when his lips had spread this easily, his face lax and his eyes closed in total surrender and relaxation.

As if sensing her, Hermione lifted her head and then shook her head slowly at her, indicating that there was nothing to worry about and when she went back to gently stroke her thumb over Severus' forehead, Minerva knew that – indeed – there was nothing she should worry about.

* * *

It was odd, he mused as he slowly came to himself, only to catch a glimpse of brown hair. "Don't leave." He pleaded, and was surprised when the hand he had just held glided back into his larger one – willingly and fearless – before the soothing feeling of healing magic washed over him and he lost his touch to the world again, anchoring solely on the soft magic floating through him.

He awoke when he felt his inner-clock chiming, telling him to stand up and get to work, as he had done for the past twenty years. He almost expected to wake in the Shrieking Shack, or even better, in some dungeon – perhaps Malfoy Manor – simply kept alive to be tortured. Cautiously opening his eyes to what he immediately identified as Hogwarts' infirmary, he was surprised to find Miss Granger's head lying on his side, her face eased into a relaxed smile, their hands still intertwined. He blinked a few times before a soft smile stole over his features as he looked at the young woman, relaxing back into the soft cushions.

As annoying as she might have always been, and as sceptic as he should be: she had given him back his life, had stopped the bleeding and his actual death… and if he was not mistaken, then it may as well have been her to heal him yesterday. That: and in his bliss of having actually survived the one point in history he'd been sure would mark his death, he could not seem to care who it was that held his hand and stayed at his side... it was strangely soothing to know that it was at least someone with an IQ over 100. Carefully he took in the soft contours of the young woman.

She looked pale, but illuminated by the first rays of the sun, he found one and the other freckle dust her skin and face. Now that he looked at her, he had to admit that he had to correct his memory of an eleven-year-old, buck-toothed, frizz-haired child to that of a young, adult woman? Just when had that happened? And when had her messy hair mellowed down into those soft curls? He looked at their intertwined hands; he could not remember a time when he had felt so cared for, when he had slept as good as that, he could not remember even the slightest inkling of a nightmare.

But post-battle-bliss aside, he was not delusional – he knew that he would still be a hunted man; the ministry was still not sure on whose side he was. After all Potter had his memories and Albus, his only other witness, had been killed, by himself no less.

_Rest it, boy, _he could almost hear the soothing voice of the old man, _you have released me if anything, never doubt yourself._ He was surprised that the soothing words festered in his heart instead of the remorse, he had, until now, fed himself.

Slowly untangling himself from his young, but no doubt gifted, student, he fixed his appearance rapidly, his eyes resting on the sleeping figure of the witch. His magic worked flawlessly for him, his heart was at peace for once and he knew that leaving now, without even the smallest thanks to the young witch would be an act worthy of only a Neanderthal – and Severus Snape prided himself with manners. So, as subtly as he could, he produced a small chain with a healer's sign dangling from it – Aesculap's staff. Carefully charming it to be carried and given away only by her, he softly placed it in her palm and could not deny himself the pleasure of leaving small kiss on her cheek as his last token of gratitude, before he vanished from the infirmary, silent as a breeze.


	2. Opening

**The Doctor**

******Opening**

**************Thank you for all the lovely reviews! Enjoy!**

* * *

When Hermione came around, she found that Snape had already left – she knew that her professor was not the one to stick around and say goodbye, or even thank her, least of all when his loyalties were still suspicious but she could not help the soft pang the empty bed left in her heart. Of course there was only Harry, Ron and her to know of his true allegiances, but it still hurt her surprisingly that she could not thank him for all the years he had put up with their childish antics and had still saved them. All the more was she surprised when she found the necklace in her hand.

Carefully inspecting it, she turned it around, but found that it was just that – a necklace. Nevertheless, she immediately clasped it around her neck, joyful when she found that it fit just perfectly and that, from now on, she would have something to cherish the memory of a brave man, even though it might take her yet some time before she would see him again... if she would even see him again. Knowing Severus Snape, he'd disappear from the world leaving the Ministry none the wiser.

"Oh, Ronald!"

It was only when she heard Molly's heartfelt cry that she remembered herself to still be in the infirmary, and she hastened to stand, hoping that she would find her first kiss well and up. Clambering up, she put her hand to the curtains, about to push them away, to see that, indeed, Ronald was up and laughing and crying at the same time, hugging his mother close. Her heart lurched at seeing him well and alive and a big smile spread on her face.

But as she made the first step to near the one man who'd she'd kissed, she found that a rather buxom and curved young witch got there before her. Ronald enthusiastically welcomed Lavender's boisterous hug and even went as far as to kiss her – in front of everyone! – before he presented her to his mother as 'his girlfriend'. Hermione, now watching from behind the drawn curtains around the bed, felt her heart break in thousand little pieces, wished that it would stop hurting and found, all of a sudden, that she wanted nothing more than to be done with this school – perhaps even with the magical world.

Silently she sat down on the bed that hours earlier, her potion's teacher had laid in, and watched the scene unfold in front of her through a blur of streaming tears. Of course Lavender was gleefully welcomed, Molly was always excited for her sons, especially for her youngest, and when Harry came in to ask for Ginny's hand, the matron broke out in tears. Hermione watched silently and let the tears slip down her face. Lavender was everything that she was not, she was vocal about her love to Ron, enthusiastic, babbling, a 'girly-girl'; short: everything that Molly had always wished for her son to have – Hermione could not keep up with that.

* * *

Hermione returned to Grimmauld Place one last time to get her books and belongings from there, but by then she was already a persona non-grata throughout the wizarding-world. It had been unwise, she pondered, to follow Molly's invitation for dinner when she knew that Lavender would be there. But she'd thought nothing of it. While she still smarted from the heart-break the youngest male Weasley had caused her, she was also happy for him – rationally she'd come to terms with the fact that perhaps she would have never been able to be the wife he so wished for but the Weasleys were still the only family she had.

The only error she'd made in her train of thought was that she'd left out the one variable that tilted the scales: the second witch. Of course the fiancée of Ronald Weasley could not help but prance around the Burrow as if it was her second home – which it probably _was_ – and show just how in love she was with her _Won-Won_. And Ronald, the dumb ape, never even bothered to correct her behaviour.

In hindsight, she patted her own shoulder for not blowing up like a bomb and making a scene, right then and there when Lavender had started to hang up laundry, talk with Molly over kitchen-charms (of all things) and then proceeded to snog the living daylights out of Ron in front of her. Hermione had been able to put up with all that, really she was way over that. But when her peer realized exactly that, Lavender started a quarrel, and really, it was nothing more than that: a stupid witch quarrel over nothing and she had not been very intelligent about it either.

They had been sitting at the dinner table and had just started serving food and Molly had brought up the topic of future plans, which had led Lavender to boast about her plans to be the best wife possible, and nothing in the world could have stopped her. The parole had made the round until it had been Hermione's turn, but before she could even speak up, she'd caught sight of the evil glint in Lavender's eyes and before she really knew it, she found herself in the difficult situation of having to answer whether or not marriage was involved in her future plans or not. It was a low blow, indeed, and Hermione had gone about her way to explain very calmly that unfortunately she was not so lucky to get the wizard she so deeply loved, and that now she would focus on her possible career as a Healer.

But Lavender had not taken the bait – she'd been determined to get Hermione out of the Burrow and so she forged on. Who was it that she loved? She had never given any outward signs that she had ever been in love with anyone. How come that _she, _the Lavender Brown, did not know of this? They were best friends since the first year – surely she must be jesting.

Harry had had at least the decency to be silent and very ashamed, when Hermione put her spoon aside, disturbing the unsettling silence in the dining room with the faint clink of the cutlery. For a moment she wondered if she had truly been all that secretive about her inclination. Had really no one noticed her fancy? Hermione decided – then and there – to come clean, and gripping her pendant, looked at Lavender with burning eyes as her mouth opened to tell the truth. Lavender blew up like a bomb.

She had always known it, Hermione always wanted to steal her men, it had been like this since first year, she was such a... Hermione still fumed when she thought of the accusation... _harlot_ – and then, in her staged outburst, she had suddenly accused Hermione of seducing Ron and Harry while they were on Horcrux hunt and making the poor 'boys' her slaves, healing them only if they would do as she pleased.

Gobsmacked, but still calm, Hermione recounted – as the first of the Trio – of the Horcrux hunt, how hungry they were, cold and lonely, the nights when the locket burdened them and had them relive their worst nightmares, in the end even drawing them apart, but none had helped. Lavender had been convincing enough for the majority and Hermione had, angry at Ron and Harry for _not saying a word_, taken her wand, hexed Lavender a pig's tail, ears and nose, before she'd _accioed_ her bag and her cloak and stormed out of the Burrow, running away with a blurry vision.

Never in her whole life had she felt this humiliated – this left alone; and for Hermione Granger, it was the last straw. Without a warning or even a backward glance, she withdrew all the money she possessed, making herself a last good impression with the goblins when she handed them Godric's sword (Harry had still not tried to get it back from her) and bought herself a whole acre of land with a small summer mansion in the middle of Wales, where no one would look for her.

It took her some time before she contacted Minerva, tentatively at first, testily, insecure if she could rely on this person – who could as well have turned her back on her, Harry and Ron had both done it with surprising ease. Minerva, however, had been most angry at her story and had immediately invited her over to the summer-house she had inherited from Albus. Hermione took no time to over think – she apparated without a sound and fell into the arms of her mentor.

* * *

When it became clear to Minerva that basically Hermione wanted nothing of the public wizarding-world, the headmistress almost feared that the young witch would retire completely from the magical world. After all, she had every reason to, and she had the means. The headmistress could still not believe that Harold and Ronald would so easily discard themselves of Hermione, the one witch who had saved them more often than she could count.

It took her some time to address Poppy, who in turn addressed the Saint Andrew's Order and other hospital chiefs who had met Hermione to see what could be done. Lucinda was more than happy to welcome Hermione in the Order and hence Hermione left the summer mansion to move in at the hidden convent of the Order of Saint Andrew's.

* * *

It was years of training and learning, but Hermione was a dedicated witch and she dove head-first into her studies, giving her all and her best, soon rising from her novice rank to her first degree and further on from there. Minerva followed the phoenix-like rise of her pupil with chest swelling in pride and supported her wherever she could.

Whenever Hermione was at home, she would contact no one and would not even respond to any of Harry's, Ginny's or Ronald's letters. Amongst the flood of excuses she thought she had even detected one of Molly, but she never opened them and after the first try, no second letters floated in. It was clear to Hermione that anyone who threw her away quite as easily once, would not hesitate to do it a second time.

Ever since she had told Minerva of her whereabouts, she was even more happy to have her mansion now secret-kept, which fitted her just well. Minerva was a good friend and a strong support and with the help of the older witch, she had cleared Snape's name within a year. Sometimes when she allowed herself to emerge from the dusty tomes she swallowed, she would sit in the vast yard and observe nature around her, her fingers always playing with the necklace her professor had left her, thinking of the man.

* * *

Minerva never left her student's side. She observed her, wrote letters to Lucinda and to Poppy and was ever so delighted when Hermione continued to contact her, and when she would come over now and then for tea and a long talk.

The headmistress knew that she was fine where she was, Hermione finally could be the witch she had always aspired to be, without two sidekicks slowing her down and it was pure joy to watch her blossoming into the woman that she had always been deep down. Only sometimes Hermione would lapse into silences, staring at the fire in the hearth, or out of the window, playing with the pendant and saying nothing.

It was that far away look tinged with just the slightest hint of sadness that made Minerva ask herself, just who or what Hermione was thinking of, but her gut-feeling soon declared that it had to be a person she was thinking about. For surely the necklace she wore had been a gift, and she was ever so constantly thinking of him. Just who could it be?

It occurred to her that Ronald – war hero or not – had broken the heart of the young healer, while she had been all in for him and ready to settle down. She could have found herself someone else, Minerva was convinced of it, after all who would not want such a beautiful, intelligent and powerful witch such as Hermione? Then again, she mused, who wanted a witch with a tarnished reputation? Appearance had always been an issue to the wizards of Britain, and a woman, no matter if muggle or witch, with a dubious reputation only found dubious company and that surely wasn't for Hermione.


	3. Build Up

**The Doctor**

**The Arrival**

**Thank you for all the reviews (and ideas but I will still leave you hanging for a bit ;P), enjoy never the less (lovely potions master arriving soon... but not too soon).**

* * *

Throughout her training, Hermione observed the wizarding-world from the outside, connected to it by the convent but hidden by the very same. Lucinda was luckily very understanding of her situation and enabled her to work behind the scenes rather than putting her on display too soon. She followed with keen interest the clearing of Severus Snape, led by Minerva McGonagall, finally successful when Harry Potter delivered the pensive memories he'd been given by the dour wizard. A small part of her breathed relieved when his name was cleared and maybe even hoped that he would come back to Britain, wherever he was.

She read the news and was only partly surprised when Lavender Brown fled her wedding with an unknown wizard by her side – she pondered on sending Ron her condolences, but figured that she would seem an emergency button to the young wizard then, and decided that she wouldn't. Instead, she smiled when he was seen with Susan Bones eating dinner four months later. Susan was sensible, no matter where this would lead, Ron would have a good friend in her at the very least.

It was around that time, the beginnings of autumn, when she was given responsibility of the children's ward of Saint Andrews Hospital – she loved the children and was surprised at how easy they trusted her when she came by more often.

* * *

Lucinda could never complain to Minerva – and whenever the two of them met, she never would. Hermione was a real gem, she knew that. Never had she seen so many children eased into their stay at Saint Andrew's and she knew from experience that most of them had quite the history behind them already. Most of the children were orphans from the Great War, magical through and through, but traumatized, or maybe already physically handicapped having fallen victim to a raid or other forms of torture. Hermione was like a ray of sunshine for the young ones and Lucinda had to concede that the children were perhaps as much of a cure to her as she was to them.

For Hermione's topmost priority were the children in her care: she led them out in the garden, sang to them and with them, read them stories or invented them on the go and not a crying child evaded her soft arms.

It surprised the head-healer just how easily the young witch slipped into the mother-role, and how easily the children adapted to her, latched to her and still stayed her source of strength instead of turning into a drain of strength. But the Hermione seemed to know exactly what the children felt up to do and whenever she was not sent on some important mission, she would be around 'her' children all the time – Lucinda had found even that Hermione postponed any paperwork should any of the children find its way through her always open door with something to say.

Bodily harm could quickly be cured, if the wizard or the witch was grown up and their magical networks already ripened to their fullest. However, with children, one needed more patience and a feeling for the fine, establishing networks in their bodies – and she was glad to have found such a person in Hermione.

* * *

But as a young woman even Hermione suffered from being lonely now and then, as all the witches her age did. The witch could not help it – nothing assuaged those attacks of loneliness. She would wake up in the middle of the night, feeling her throat constrict with pent-up sexual-frustration, especially when she was away on 'holidays' – periods of work-pause forced upon her by Lucinda, with aid of Minerva – and the children or the odd mission from Lucinda would not be present to divert her focus.

Her stomach would clench, her breathing would get heavy and she would roll around in her bed until her heated skin and her slick thighs would get the better of her and she would release herself in the darkness of the night, never opening her eyes to what she did exactly, but always imagining the same man above her, driving her to the brink of pleasure – always the same man, whose name she kept repeating over and over: _Severus_.

Sometimes she would cry afterwards, her body shaking with the thick tears that stained her sheets, sometimes she would be ashamed and wash herself, change the sheets and dress in the thickest garments she could find, no matter the season, though most of the time, Hermione would lie awake in the room, caressing the necklace he'd left her as she stared up at her ceiling, wondering what the man was up to out there in the vast world, until sleep came over her.

* * *

A soft knock sounded through the cold night, tearing through darkness, chill and fog. Lucinda smiled in the gate-keeper-cabin when she heard it, standing up from her place next to the closed oak-portal of the convent and opened the small in-built door – she had waited. She had known that someone would come, for she'd been watching the stars for years now and recently they had promised her relief for one party and the starting journey for another party. Unfortunately stars were vague and their course could change within hours… and she hadn't known _who _it would be.

"Miss Brown…" she whispered into the night, staring wide-eyed at the haggard face of the once voluptuous woman – she was a shadow of herself. Where once curves had prevailed sharp angles of protruding bones had now taken the place, the soft and joyous curls of the witch now hung limp and dirty from the scalp of the pale and shallow-skinned witch. The infant in her arms, wrapped into a brown blanket struggled in its place in its mothers arms and almost immediately she put her meager fingers over its mouth, wincing when the child started to wail. Truth be told it was more a whine than a wail and being a trained medic, Lucinda started at just how young the child in the arms of the witch sounded.

"Please." She begged, brown eyes filling with tears as Lavender stretched the small infant out towards her. Lucinda knew what kind of 'please' this was; she knew that Miss Brown would turn her back and leave, never to come back, never to look back on the child that she left here. Indeed, Lavender Brown would never claim to be the mother of the child she had either received during a now-broken-engagement or during an elopement looked down upon by the wizarding world. The head-healer stretched out her arms and the curly-haired woman almost thrust the child into them, staring at it for only a moment as it started screaming at the top of its lungs and then vanished without a further sound.

* * *

"Hermione! Miss Hermione!"

Startled she woke from her slumber, looking bleary-eyed at Marigold, a novice in the convent, who'd came barging into her room without knocking. "Miss Hermione, quick, Miss Lucinda demanded your presence in her office, now." It seemed to be urgent, for not even the young woman was dressed in her usual garb. Lucinda did normally not call her on during the midst of the night, and now fully alert, Hermione swung her legs out of the bed, her slender feet touching the cold ground.

"What has happened?" she asked, swinging a shawl around her shoulders as she followed the hasty steps of the novice through the night who admitted that she was not informed either. She had only received the urgent message by patronus and had immediately gone to seek Hermione instead of wasting further time. As soon as the door to Lucinda's office was opened, the angry screams of a young child tore through the night, assaulting the ears of the newcomers, who quickly shut the door behind them in order not to wake the whole convent. Hermione paled, as the head-healer looked at her with pleading eyes, offering her a small bundle of brown blanket, wrapped within it an infant – in the magical light within the office, one could still see blood-remnants on the young body of the child, it could barely be a few hours old.

"He will be your only mission for now." She heard Lucinda say as she carefully checked for the health of the child, she nodded absent-mindedly, hardly worried about orders right now, the head-healer continued, "I will draw you from your post in the child's ward as of now – you are due for your holidays anyways." Again Hermione nodded, relieved that the child's crying now slowly died down now that the greatest shock was over. Hermione carefully cradled it to her, crossing the room with it a few times to calm the infant, whose crying at least subsided, when it listened to her heartbeat.

"I will contact you." She said when she wrapped the small boy further into his bundle again, noticing for the first time the strangely familiar pattern and scent of the blanket, but discarding it, when she could make no immediate connection. Hermione hardly noticed Lucinda's dismissal as she exited the office on her own, the small baby-boy on her arm, still frowning, but now whining in need to be fed. Shushing and cooing to the small boy, she hastened to her cabinet, quickly preparing a bottle of milk for him and gently putting it to his mouth. Intuitively the boy latched to it and greedily began to suck, probably getting his first fill.

Hermione smiled softly, weighing him around and dancing a little through the room, easing him into his new environment as he stilled his hunger. She had to wash him, still, and while she completed the task, wondered just _who_ would give away a baby this early after his birth – he could barely be a few hours hold. Hermione was relieved though, when the boy finally opened his eyes once, looking at her with startling gray eyes – on one hand, it meant that he was alive and healthy, on the other hand did she know those eyes, and when she looked at the blanket again, she remembered why it looked familiar. Looking down on the, now clean, boy again, she wondered just how Lucinda had gotten hold of a Weasley boy.


	4. Set Stage

**The Doctor**

**Frederick Granger**

**Thank you all for the support, it will be shortly done - 8 chapters, so for all that have read until now: only a few more to go! This, however, is the last chapter without our potions master - stage is set for the play (more or less). PLEASE ENJOY!**

* * *

Hermione took a long time saying her good-byes to the children of her ward, laughing, when they lined up to sing their favourite song for her and then Robert came forth – the oldest – to wish her a nice holiday in hopes that she would come back soon. She felt guilty for letting them believe that she would only go on holidays, then again, the children were also overly empathic about the infant-child in her arms and decided that he would need all her attention now.

After she had listened to Lucinda's story how she had gotten hold of the baby-boy, she drew her own conclusions about Lavender and Ron. It was barely a year ago that the witch had shown up on Ron's doorstep, begging for forgiveness and given the circumstances, it appeared that he'd given her his forgiveness, and something to remember him by (which was really nasty to do considering his engagement to Susan and of course the fact that he _knew_ he'd never be with Lavender that way again). Only that Lavender couldn't really be … pardon the expression … arsed into taking care of a _bastard_ – for that was what the boy would, from now on, be seen as, if he wouldn't find parents soon. True, he had his looks from somewhere else, probably Lavender's side of the family, for the black hair was highly unusual for the Weasley clan (and if her memory held true then even Lavender had blonde hair, but one never knew), but he was still too young to be put in an orphanage, he was barely a few days old.

With the baby-boy in a shawl bound around her, she bid her goodbyes to the convent and travelled back to 'Granger mansion' as she had dubbed her abode. It was a long travel for she had decided to mostly go by muggle-transports, in her opinion there were two main advantages in doing so: for starters, Hermione did not wish to be seen with a young baby in the wizarding-world, they would go on about her morals and would roll up the story that had excluded her in the beginning. She may have acquired a thicker skin, but it still didn't mean that she wished to expose herself unnecessarily to the wizarding press – especially not when all the tumult would probably fall back on the innocent boy, who really couldn't be held responsible for the faults of his parents.

But, she figured, it was somehow strange that she now had Lavender's baby-boy at hands – and that was the other reason she was not ready to be found in the wizarding-world yet. If Lavender got any wind that _she_, Hermione Granger – the one witch she'd shunned and humiliated to no ends – now took care of her illegitimate child, she would regret it for the rest of her life. And even if the witch had been the reason for her expulsion, she could not wish her ill – after all, she had to be really despaired to give away her hour-old son.

Going by train also gave Hermione the possibility to go clothes shopping for the little boy. Of course she and Lucinda had transformed a few old t-shirts into long shirts for the boy, but Hermione didn't want him to grow up in… shirts that had old-fashioned flowers printed on them. No, she had earned herself a good fortune with her work at Saint Andrew's and hardly ever used it for herself, and there was a far better way to dress a young boy, even if it was in muggle clothes. And she had to admit that after a short trip to Edinburgh, she was a lot more content with the way the boy looked now.

When she finally arrived in Wales it was already night and the child slept deeply – like a stone; she figured that those were Ron's genes. Hermione was glad to see that Minerva had received her owl and had prepared the room next to hers as she had wished, effectively transforming it into a children's room. Carefully she brushed her lips over the head of the sleeping boy and smiled at him. "This is all yours, sleepy-head." The witch whispered as she observed the new crib and the magical star-littered ceiling above their heads.

* * *

"You need a name, little one." She smiled at the young boy, who was busy taking greedy, deep gulps out of the bottle she fed him with. Hermione had taken them to her back-yard, after banishing the gnomes that could hurt her or the baby, and was quite content with bathing in the shining sun and simply lying in the soft grass next to the child. He was immensely curious and ever so interested in everything his huge gray eyes took in.

The boy looked at her and crinkled his eyes in a smile as his hold on the bottle strengthened when she brushed over his shock of black hair, relishing in the incredibly soft texture – as if he were an Angora bunny. She smiled with him and weaved her finger, moving his hand that had latched to the slender digit. His mouth detached from the milk bottle and he started to move his mouth in grotesque mimics that made Hermione smile and in return the baby.

"Frederick?", she suggested silently and the baby laughed giddily gently tugging her finger, "Yes," she laughed along, "Frederick is a good name for you, little one." And hence the little boy with the gray eyes and shock of black hair was known as Frederick.

* * *

The month of holidays passed her by all too quickly and when Hermione returned to Saint Andrew's, she was not so sure if she could let Frederick go again. She'd grown on him like a mother would and found the thought of separation quite difficult to digest. Especially if she thought of herself – she was a twenty year old hermit, a woman in her prime that had secluded herself from the world she had chosen: there was little possibility of her finding a decent man who'd want to spend his life with her **and** give her children **and** raise those children with her. It was difficult enough to find a decent man – period. Then of course, she was a shady figure in the wizarding world – there was no way, she'd find a decent wizard… and she loved being a witch too much to give it up for an ignorant muggle man.

"Are you sure?" Lucinda asked her over her table and she nodded – the medic sighed. "Don't get me wrong, Hermione, I wish your happiness – it's just… I'm losing a very, very capable medi-witch." The head-healer lamented. Hermione was aware – she had proposed coming by, for the children, but had realized that they were very well off without her anyways, children were like that, she knew it and was happy that they found happiness wherever they turned to. It pained her as well, to close such a big chapter in her life, but it was now or never. She nodded again, this time looking at Minerva and Lucinda equally.

"I know… that it will be a lot of work, but… I… I don't think I would ever again get such a chance." She whispered, smiling at Frederick who tried to catch the gleaming lights over his head.

* * *

Minerva and Lucinda shared a look over the table, both aware what she really addressed. Despite all appearances and all clever ruses she had devised, Hermione had been devastated with the way Ron had dropped her and even though they had both hoped that there would be _someone_ – the one whose necklace she always carried – no one had materialized in order to claim the witch. Men her age were frightened by her intelligence or her power, if they still took the chance to talk to her despite her reputation from years ago. They were both aware that Hermione had delved into her studies like a mad-woman and had given up herself on the way.

Oh she was still the same, enthusiastic, intelligent, empathic and mature witch they'd learned to love, even though she could sometimes be bossy or moody, but she had given up herself as a woman: had started to wear the wide healer robes instead of accentuating robes and had only now restored to muggle clothing, finally showing off her figure. She had matured into a young woman, curves in all the right places, a pale but healthy skin, a curly, but tamed, mane of chestnut locks and her golden eyes – she was a striking figure, but having given up on herself closed her eyes to any possible advances towards her person.

"Then…" Lucinda smiled benignly, "Then I wish you the best possible, Hermione." She stood to embrace the young witch, "I am honoured that you have stayed so long in our convent, but I see that it is time to let you out in the world again."

Minerva circled her as well and smiled broadly. "My child," she smiled, "I am so proud of who you have become. I am sure you will be the best of mothers… just make sure to come by now and then, I could never wait for your children." And truly she had never been patient in her waiting for Hermione's brilliance to be inherited by her off-spring; ever since the young witch had obliviated her parents during the war and had orphaned herself, the headmistress had been quite content in supporting her with the mother model that she so direly missed – and as a chosen mother, she was now very happy to see Hermione happy, even if the child biologically wasn't hers; she could tell that she would love it and would make it hers.

* * *

Hermione arrived in Wales with tears in her eyes as she gently cradled Frederick to her. "Frederick Granger," she mused as she smiled through her tears, "that sounds lovely, dear. I hope your mommy can forgive me and accept me as your new mother." She took a good look at him. "And I promise that I will do everything possible in my might to assure that you will have the best of lives."


	5. Enter

**The Doctor**

**Severus Snape**

**Two in a day! Enjoy.**

* * *

A week after Hermione had left the convent of Saint Andrew's, Minerva entered her office after lunch to receive a surprise visit that almost shocked her out of her tightly laced boots. Of course she had been the one to represent Hermione, who'd been shunned back then, in the project of Severus Snape's name-clearing and had succeeded a year into their project (especially when Hermione had found the perfect way to bribe Harry) – or rather had succeeded in her representative nature, but still she would have never thought about him visiting her. He was such a private man, one who'd simply gone into hiding and it had hurt (yes) but not as much when he hadn't immediately returned to express his gratitude and celebrate freedom. She wasn't even sure she would have wanted him to… immediately that is. But there, as she entered her office one noon, stood Severus Snape at the window, cloak draped over a chair by the fire, staring amusedly at the antics of the students below him.

"Is that… really you? … Severus?"

The headmistress was overwhelmed with the joy of seeing her lost friend again, and came to embrace him tightly when he openly smiled at her. She was surprised when he returned her hug as if it was the most natural of things, as if he had done it for his whole life. She fought the tears in her eyes as she looked him over once. He had changed, and yet he hadn't. Sure he had filled out quite nicely, as a wizard in his age should, though she could tell that he would probably always be on the thin side. His hair looked feathery and soft to the touch, such an improvement from the oily strands he'd been notorious for during his period as a teacher. And although he was still pale, his skin no longer held the sickly shine she'd always worried about – even his teeth were straightened out. He was so much more the man he should have always been now than years prior.

"How did you come up?", she asked still flummoxed, staring at him in her arms. "Why didn't I notice?"

He smirked good-naturedly at her, one of his arms still around her. "Minerva, I would be a very, very bad ex-spy if I wouldn't be able to enter the castle I've inhabited for close to thirty years now, without the inhabitants noticing." The headmistress swatted at his arm, but smiled nevertheless at him. It was strangely soothing to have her old colleague, friend and trainee back. She ushered him towards a chair next to the fireplace, summoning two glasses and a bottle of Firewhiskey as she took a seat next to him, her eyes brimming with excitement and barely contained thirst for knowledge.

"Sit down, Severus… tell me how you've been…"

* * *

Lucinda McGarren, head-healer of the healer convent Order Saint Andrew's since fifteen years, was just finished with the official papers for Hermione and Frederick about to fold them and tie them to the leg of the waiting owl, when a black-cloaked man stormed her office – practically materializing out of thin air. His dark hair was in disarray and his face barely contained the rage that fired his eyes. She meant to stun him in the first instance, but remembered his face before she could harm him.

"Severus Snape.", she greeted softly, motioning towards a chair, but he refused to take it, his breath still heavy and fast. "How can I help you?" At this point she was surprised that he had not yet started to spit fire or breathe sulfur through his flaring nostrils – albeit a poor joke, she found the comparison lacking in naught. She might as well find herself opposite a Hungarian Horntail with the way his magic sparked around him.

"Is it true?" he snarled, placing his hands on her table as he towered over her, pinning her down with a furious stare – she remembered her niece complaining to her how Professor Snape pinned his students down in a way that hindered each and everyone to escape his cold eyes. Although his eyes were anything but cold, she could now comprehend just what Melinda had been talking about. Taking a breath to answer, she stopped dead before she even started when his eyes widened a fraction and his deft hands ripped Hermione's papers out of her grasp. She was sure she heard a snarl.

"You mean Hermione Granger and Frederick?" the blond head-healer asked calmly, not sure if she was really calm or if she could even betray herself, watching as the face of the man in front of her twisted into a grotesque mask of furious anger. "As you can see, it is. He is a wonderful boy…" she said, leaning forth and _accidentally_ brushing her arm against the framed picture of Frederick and Hermione in their garden, Snape's eyes caught her movement and there it was again, the slight widening of his eyes, before they narrowed into slits. Lucinda held her breath momentarily – she was playing a very, very dangerous game.

"Where can I find her?" he asked, Lucinda watched as his mouth barely moved.

It all clicked into place.

The day of the battle Minerva had come in with Severus floating behind her, but Poppy, may she rest in peace, and herself had been too busy with all the others that needed tending to and Hermione had taken on the healing of the professor all on her own. If she remembered exactly, the day after the battle had also been the first time the necklace had shown up – the first day after the battle, the day when Severus Snape miraculously vanished from the infirmary to hide wherever he had been all those years.

But he was back now… and he was displeased with Hermione having a child of her own. Lucinda was not stupid, she knew how men worked and she knew what jealousy and possessiveness looked like – Severus Snape was a spitting epitome.

"WHERE IS SHE?!" The man roared all at once when she did not answer immediately, and Lucinda smirked at him, ever so slightly, before she stretched out a few more documents pertaining to Hermione's motherhood. Dangerous game or not, knowledge was power and she was going to make him suffer just a little more through his insecurity, she would let him stew as long a she would dare for the time he had taken to show up again – he would, hopefully, soon realize that while he'd been hiding, Hermione's heart had broken. In Lucinda's humble opinion he could take a little torture.

"Hermione Granger lives at 596, Cheltenham, Wales.", she finally divulged, pressing the maternity papers into his hand. "Archimedes and I would be ever so thankful if you could take the papers with you, if you are headed there." Severus Snape was gone without a sound before she could say more.

Lucinda leaned back in her chair and stared at her open door, a slow smile creeping over her face. The wizarding-world was in for its biggest surprise couple yet.

* * *

Hermione was playing with Frederick in the garden, when her wards alarmed her of a visitor – an unknown visitor. She was loath to interrupt their little game of Catch The Finger, but guests demanded attention. Lifting Frederick to her hip as she stood, she was about to go see who it was, when all of a sudden her wards crumbled under the pressure of a furious onslaught and before she had even made it to the door, she was confronted with a highly irritated Severus Snape, fuming like a dragon.

"Pro-Professor!" She stammered, unsure if she should be happy that he had finally come back to Britain or scared by his expression – the years of separation had done nothing to calm her nerves when confronted with a furious Severus Snape, and she was still lucky that her surviving instincts worked as such. Here he stood, in all his black-clothed glory, pale skin slightly reddish with barely contained rage – instinctively she made a few steps backwards, it was no use, Snape followed her, towering over her.

"If you wanted a child so badly, why didn't you tell me? Write or something!", he growled. Hermione was taken aback, stopping dead in her tracks.

"W-What?"

"I would have been more than willing to make you a child." He seethed; Hermione's brain – despite its usual over-activity – did not catch up with him. Actually she caught up with nothing in that moment: not Snape's actual presence, not with the fact that he had sometimes found out her address, and not with his words, which were the least of her priorities right now. On her hip Frederick started to fret – she pulled him closer.

"Professor?" she tried again.

"Who's the father?" he inquired, trudging on in his interrogation like the devil possessed.

"Father?" she asked dumbstruck. She believed it was one of the Weasleys, but she could never be sure, "I don't… don't know." She stammered helplessly, pulling Frederick closer to herself in a protective way – Snape never noticed, his world went up in flames.

"So you just went out into the world and fucked the next best guy? Have you gone completely barmy?"

It had taken her some time, she would readily admit it, but finally her brain caught up, her mouth falling for a second before she caught and composed herself. "S-Sir, Frederick isn't my… my biological child. I… adopted him.", she finished quietly, shrinking back some again, almost guiltily as she nodded towards the crumpled adoption papers in his hands. Judged by the way his eyes widened and he studied the papers with interest, it appeared that the professor noticed them for the first time.

In her arms Frederick burped lazily, yawning and Hermione smiled satisfied at her as she passed her professor, who was still reading the papers as he followed her into the house where she put Frederick to his crib. She was a bit nervous that the man her heart had anchored itself to was standing in her bedroom, now looking at her with a quickly rising chest.

* * *

She was still unclaimed – Severus' heart danced wildly in his chest, threatening to burst his ribcage and fly out to her. He was sure that would be hellishly unromantic, he'd make a bloody mess – quite literally, and she'd probably be left to clear it up. She was still unclaimed – a voice repeated in his head, as she now turned from the crib, looking at him with her big, golden eyes. She was a goddess, clad in a white summer-dress that had a modest v-cut, accentuated by the necklace he'd given her years ago.

"You've kept the necklace?" he asked when she came back, closing the door behind her, her whiskey-coloured eyes found his dark ones again and she smiled softly, hand coming up to fiddle with the pendant – it seemed as though she did it quite frequently, the way she did not even need to seek the pendant anymore, her hand flew up to it in a smooth arc.

"I never got to thank you for it.", she said silently, "It has guided me for a long time."

Oh he wished he would be the pendant, rest on her skin and be touched like that with those fingers. "It was… was my thanks to you." He said instead, averting his eyes, suddenly conscious of himself, uncomfortable with the silence that settled and insecure about how to proceed.

"Would you care for some tea?" she extended the perfectly English invitation towards him and he nodded gratefully.


	6. Action

**The Doctor**

**'D-Day'**

**Thank you all for the encouraging reviews, only two more chapters to go. ENJOY!**

* * *

"Hermione?"

They had been sitting in the winter-garden for some time now. Had stared at each from across the table, drinking their tea and each other in, but not a word had fallen since they had left her room – she'd prepared tea in the meanwhile, had wordlessly proposed him a seat and had served the tea without another word – the silence was somewhat strange, but in its strangeness also comfortable. Severus, now back in his own skin, placed down his cup and leaned forth staring intently at the witch in front of him; she returned the gaze shyly.

"Sir?"

"Severus,", he corrected, before he looked at her again, relishing in the small blush that bloomed on her cheeks. "Can I… Can I… have you?" he asked, not sure how to go about this one. Slytherins were supposed to be smooth and to hold the upper hand in a conversation, but when faced with Hermione Granger, Severus found that he could accomplish neither of the two. True, he'd never been much of a ladies-man, but when it had come down to it, he had always found the right words and actions at the right time to achieve his goal. But Hermione was another league entirely it appeared – he was faced with his saviour, his princess and the star of his dreams for the last few years and he had very little idea how not to make an idiot out of himself.

"Have me?" she asked breathless, her rapid breathing drawing his eyes to the exposed skin of her sternum and her neck then to her lips and then her bright eyes, now slightly narrowed in confusion as she cocked her head.

"I… I could not stop thinking about you all those years." He admitted, standing up and pacing the small room – sitting was too restrictive, the floor might swallow him whole before he'd delivered his message, "You did your job, yes, but you-you also saved my life, gave me a second chance to live and I cannot-cannot forget you… You are everywhere I look, and every breath I take reminds me that I can do so thanks only to you." He looked at her again, turning in a billow of cloaks that he had cultivated for years, "So, can I have you?"

* * *

"What will happen, if I say yes?" she asked carefully.

His intense gaze set everything in her aflame. "I will have you and nothing will come between us."

The dark eyes that she had never really seen but had also never been able to forget pinned her down, found her own eyes without effort and the breath that she had only just taken in, left her in an audible gasp. Hermione had never been at the receiving end of declarations of love – at Valentine's Day, she had always been the one witch who didn't even get a card and apart from Ronald, she had never been even close to a relationship, let alone kissed anyone else. But she was quite sure that this man had just declared his love towards her.

"And what-what if I say no?" she asked silently, still pinned down by his gaze, still feeling like an antelope face to face with a carnivore – lion? snake?, she did not know which of the two – that was ready to pounce on her, sent her heart racing and made her lose her breath before she'd even taken it.

"I will leave, get out of your life and forever stay out. You will never hear from me again."

Everything within her stilled in the same moment he'd said the phrase. What should she do? The young witch stood, doing only a few steps – too less to call it pacing – before she stopped, only an arm's length away from the man. Her heart started beating again, making her acutely aware of the softened gaze he now directed at her. "I… need a day to think it over, please… Severus?" she asked silently, surprised when he nodded.

"Then I will be here tomorrow again for your answer, Hermione." He was about to leave, but a thought struck his mind and on a whim, he turned back towards her, grabbed her hand gently and placed a kiss on it, in a perfected bow, before he vanished completely, without a sound.

Her heart stuck in her throat as she cradled her hand to her breast and slid to the ground.

* * *

Hermione was sure that her mind had never been as jumbled up as it was in that eternity when she sat on the white-tiled floor of her winter-garden, staring at the spot where Snape… Severus had just stood.

Everything in her screamed _take him, say yes_ – but she was not sure. Hell, just this morning her life had been the familiar wasteland she'd grown accustomed to over the last few years and all of a sudden this man came in, completely unannounced and wanted to _have_ her. Swallowing the big lump in her throat, the witch gathered herself from the floor and cleared away the remnants of their afternoon-tea with only a flick of her wrist. She had some thinking to do, but first she needed to clear her head.

* * *

Her thoughts, however, would not let her sleep that night. After having cleared the surface of her mind, she had put herself to the task, had started analyzing the current situation and had started to think about possible outcomes. But matters of the heart defied logic – and therefore she unwittingly found herself turning over the same thoughts again and again, effectively walking in circles until late into the night. Frederick was sleeping fast and deep and nothing interrupted his stone-like slumber, Hermione however started an all-too-well-known tossing in her big bed.

By tomorrow she would have had to decide.

Restless the witch stared at the ceiling above her, unreleased lust rising in her collecting to a bile in her throat. She whined lowly in her throat – this was not the time for her desire, not with Frederick sleeping in the room next to her, not with the important decision she had to make. But her body would not listen to her – her breathing grew erratic, no matter how desperately she tried to calm it and her skin heated up, moistening her thighs.

Frustrated with her treacherous body, she quickly warded Frederick's room, giving in to the wild need burning hot in her body that craved another, very specific, body. Hermione imagined his hands to slip down her curves, to touch her breasts, feathering down her stomach to finally arrive at the center of her aching desire and plunge without hesitance. Her pace was furious that night and yet it took her some time to reach her breaking point, the syllables of his name on her lips as she clamped down on her fingers, letting herself go to the fantastic image of a naked Severus Snape bent over her, looking at her with that intense gaze.

* * *

Frederick made sure that Hermione would not get a minute for herself to think about her answer for Severus the next day. His constant noises amused her though and took her thoughts of the dark man as she rolled around with the boy in the garden.

He would not go to sleep around noon and Hermione, weighed down with the unusual heat in Britain, decided that perhaps it was too hot for him too and drew the both of them a bath, happy with watching the young boy play around in the water. Over all the noises he made, she did not hear the door open, did not hear the footsteps. Her sole focus of attention was the happy baby in her tub and the cooling sensation of the water against her skin.

Finally when Frederick yawned, she took him out of the tub, rubbed the both of them dry and wound a towel around herself, opening the door and trudging towards her room. She stopped mid-step when she perceived Severus at the other end of the corridor, just coming up from the stairs. Oh the humiliation. Her mind blocked out every thought and for a moment they stared at each other. Neither of them mobile for different reasons altogether.

* * *

Snape had never been a popular target of the female populace. His haughty looks had always given him an aura of mystery which had, at one point, attracted females; but once he opened his mouth and spoke, women tended to make a large bow around him, though he was still in the dark whether it was because of the, once, horrid condition of his teeth or his sharp tongue. Simply for pleasure he'd sought out whores in Knock-Turn-Alley now and then, but none of them had ever left him satisfied… then again they also hadn't managed to ever make him desire them.

But Hermione… his nose flared, Hermione was something else altogether.

Wet hair was plastered to her delicate, pale shoulders, so much skin, that he had never seen from her but figured now he had always wanted to see, those long, long legs, slender arms. So beautiful… He had almost not noticed that he had neared her, until he suddenly stood in front of her, his hands shaking with the effort not to reach out touch her and do things to her he'd only dreamed of at night.

"Hermione…" he ground, desperately keeping himself in check, "Your answer…" he breathed, but the witch backed away from him, scared, cradling Frederick closer to herself. He almost growled, he wanted to be in his place. Taking a deep breath and composing himself, he slowly walked closer again, hoping to not intimidate her – he was doing his best to keep his cool.

"Give me the boy, Hermione, and then we have a talk."

She didn't react immediately and so he gently scooped the baby from her arms, smiling softly at the boy as he carried him to his room, wiggling his fingers at the yawning Frederick.

* * *

"It's alright…" she heard him coo, as she pressed herself against the wall for support, "Your mummy and I will talk a little, young man and then perhaps we'll see each other more often, hm?" There was a smacking sound and Hermione stifled her giggle when she figured that Frederick had just smacked his lips together in what was his best imitation of a kiss – she smiled softly, Severus had just received a kiss from her baby boy.

In no time the wizard reappeared in front of her, closing the door and towering over her in that intimidating way, his heated gaze and dilated irises capturing her in no time, unerringly finding her eyes as if he'd always done it, pinning her bodiless to the wall. Hermione swallowed momentarily.

"C-Can I dress?" she stuttered, but the wizard had already grabbed her hand and tugged her softly behind him, indicating that, no, her dressing was not on his priority list right now.

"T-Tea?" she tried again as they passed the kitchen, but the wizard had led her into the winter-garden already, staring her down – his eyes aflame, his form hovering over her, his hands ever so slightly shaking as he controlled himself.

"Your answer…" he breathed heavily, and Hermione was overwhelmed with the apparent want evident in his voice, before she nodded.

"Yes," she whispered, "I… I feared you would… reproach Frederick…"

"Never," came his immediate answer, his eyes widening as if in horror.

"Then yes," she whispered again, touching her hand to his cheek, and he held it there, "A thousand times," she added. But Severus' lips were already descending on hers, captivating her mouth in a breathtaking kiss that Hermione would later swear – only to Frederick though – signed their fates.


	7. Climax

**The Doctor**

**Climax**

**Thank you for the reviews! Enjoy**

* * *

The kiss was heated. Severus' lips were so much more skilled than Ron's, despite them looking so thin, and it was so easy to give in to his masterful ministrations as he cradled her head, before one of his hands fell caressing to her waist and pulled her closer still to his clothed body. His hands were large and when the other hand fell to join the hand at her waist he encased her hips easily, gently lifting her and easing them both onto the couch seating her on his lap.

Hermione sighed into the kiss when they sat, relishing in the feel of his trousers against her calves and his rough fingertips dancing over her exposed skin. Severus took the opportunity to delve his tongue into her mouth, curious as to her taste and the surprised witch on his lap moaned before she encountered his tongue with her own, acquainting herself with his taste and feel, before she chased his tongue back into his own mouth, discovering him. He welcomed her, circled her, wrestled her and caressed her – it was a wonderful sensation, simply her tongue against his made him light-headed.

She was pure happiness as she sat on his lap, her hands full of Severus' silky raven-black locks, his nips and suckling turning her crazy and flushed; her whole brain was shutting down, bit by bit, nip by nip, stroke by stroke. His mouth detached itself from hers and before Hermione could even try to catch her breath, or open her eyes, he had latched to her neck, softly sinking his teeth there – she could feel the heat plummeting straight to her centre. Sweet Merlin, but were this man death incarnate, she'd willingly end her life. His tongue caressed her and his lips nibbled gently on her skin, igniting her as he went.

Severus was surprised when her hands deftly freed him of his cloak, leaving him in his vest and shirt and hazily concluding that he was still not distracting her well enough, redoubled his efforts. However, it appeared that his vest was better leverage to hold herself as she bent back her head, giving him more access to her skin that he possessed with an obsession. He loved her skin – it tasted clean from the water and he wished that he would always taste her like this. For such a long time he had dreamed about the expense of her skin, the way it had shone in the morning-light that day in the infirmary, but now, he sighed as he nibbled on her collar-bone, mimicking her, now she was finally his. He was the only one to kiss her, to taste her.

Boldly he licked her, smirking into her skin when she yelped softly. The hazy sounds he coaxed from her made his heart beat fast and his ego hum contentedly. Carefully and slightly reluctantly he parted from his prize, when the witch on top of him opened the buttons to his vest and the shirt. He watched for her reaction with baited breath, his hands anchored on her waist again, where he drew circles with his thumb, not knowing if he wanted to distract her from the path she was walking or him from his embarrassment.

Hermione's breath hitched when she finally took in the body she had dreamed of so often at night. He was chiselled, strong and muscular, though by no means fleshy. Softly she stroke her hand over his shoulder, discarding his shirt completely, as she watched him shrug out of his sleeves. He was scarred, the soft tissue littered his skin like trophies and Hermione stared in awe, her hand rising to caress the one scar in his neck, before she bent forth ever so slightly and pressed a languid kiss on top of it. His pulse raced beneath her lips and still she felt it speed up as she caressed his pectorals, her hands exploring the plains of his torso, travelling his scars, marvelling at his story.

His hands had wandered to her thighs, his thumbs still drawing circles on her skin as she kissed each and every scar she found. Severus closed his eyes and enjoyed the feeling of her lips on his heated skin – he looked for relief in her touches, but found that they only inflamed him further still, especially when she trailed her tongue over his skin or grazed her teeth softly over his pectorals. He was drunk on the feeling of her pressed against him, her fingers exploring soon lower regions than he would have thought of her to wander to, but when his fly had been opened and she dove in for serious, he could not find himself complaining – he could not find himself talking at all.

"Merlin-" the sigh escaped him dreamily, as her fingers worked up and down his length, exploring and learning him; Hermione smiled softly. He was thick in her hand, pulsating and hardening still, the tip leaking already – a curious thumb swiped over the pearly substance and she stuck it in her mouth, eliciting a groan from the black-haired wizard as he watched her through hooded eyes.

Possessive lips claimed her owns again, taking her hands into his and pulling them apart as he did so – completely opening her to him, making her surrender, and Hermione yielded gladly to his skilled tongue and furious lips, embracing the fire that she felt emanating from him. Desperate for contact, she moved her hips forward, connecting with the prize she had found earlier. His growl – the unmasked animal he let shine through – made her repeat that action, desperate to see him let go. Severus though did not take long to retaliate: a whine tore through the calm scenery of the winter-garden as he scraped his teeth over her neck again, before he carefully opened the towel she wore.

Hermione watched with curiosity and rising nervousness as the wizard beneath her took her in – everything of her, slowly revealed to his burning gaze. For a second she felt exposed to him, uncomfortable, right before his eyes met hers and he slowly let the towel fall behind her back. Every doubt vanished when his mouth snapped shut and she realized belatedly that his jaw had dropped – she fought the small grin.

She was beautiful – more so than he had dared to imagine. Nothing about her screamed 'child' at him; this was a woman, curvy in all the right places, pale skin, curly hair and strong muscles belying the unseen strength. His hands came back to rest on her strong thighs, starting their ascent from there, brushing his thumbs in wide arcs over the velvety skin of her stomach, her ribs and arrived finally at her breasts. Those milky mounds that looked like so much more than any school-boy might ever have been able to handle.

"Perfect…" he whispered as he palmed them, relishing in the soft whine of the witch as she arched subconsciously into his touch, her head dropping back, craving for more contact. Severus was overtaken with the beauty of the woman on top of him, holding his shoulders gently as he kneaded her globes, caressing and worshipping them. In reaction to his actions, Hermione writhed on top of him, instinctively seeking more contact. Severus hardened considerably and might as well have come then and there, would it not have been for his iron determination to experience Hermione to the fullest and _not_ look like some third-year.

Massaging one mound, he gently took the other one in his mouth, drawing out a surprised gasp from the witch as he rolled her nipple around, teasing her other nipple until he could feel it becoming rock hard and switched to relieve the stressed part of her body. Hermione held him close to her, wishing he might never part from her again.

Suckling and licking her, he slowly descended his hand to her centre of need, slick against his freed manhood and so ready for him. A seeking thumb unerringly found her core and she cried out all of a sudden just when he'd found her, snapping towards him and catching him in a passionate kiss. He was overwhelmed with Hermione Granger – tumbling mane, grasping hands, slick sleeve and all. Smug but still wanting more of her, he circled his thumb.

She buckled into his hand, driving his finger deeper and moaned into the kiss, softly scratching his pectorals. Severus knew to take a hint and directed two long digits into her, noticing pleased when her nails vanished, replaced by her soft hand that slid up and down his torso – rewarding his understanding of her message. Her quiet moans and rotating hips inviting him to pump into her – it behoved him to please her... in the very meaning of the word.

He had to be some damn deity, she whined, feeling her first orgasm rush towards her at impeccable speed, honestly. "Lean back," he said hoarsely, "Let me see you." And Hermione did – he could have asked anything of her – connected to him with her hands in his neck and his moving fingers within her, guiding her towards that breaking point that she wanted to reach so direly. His eyes took her in, watching her move, watching her bend and just as he looked up, penetrating her gaze it came, made her tense up, clamp down on his fingers as her jaw dropped, her mouth forming a perfect 'O', and her hands griped harder at him, hoping to be anchored when she knew nothing could stop her from flying.

Severus Snape was sure that he had never seen anything more beautiful than Hermione Granger orgasming right on his hand. Her hair surrounded her head like a halo as she silently cried from his ministrations and Severus was eager to swallow the sound, but he only made it as far as her throat, where he bit gently, causing another spasm in her nether regions – he licked the bite and slowly withdrew his fingers, watching her watching him as he put them into his mouth and licked them off.

She tasted divine – he groaned; nothing could compare to Hermione Granger at her height. The woman whined at the sight and taken with the rash impulse to kiss her right now, share her taste with her, and was delighted when she eagerly responded to his advances, pulling him closer even.

He was rock hard now, willing, oh so willing, and ready to delve into Hermione, but this was her and he'd wanted her for too long than to spoil this first union.

"Please?" she asked softly as their lips parted, her eyes glittering prettily as she stared directly into his. "Please Severus, can I have you inside me?"

She didn't need to ask.

Vanishing his trousers, he hissed when he finally came to full skin on skin contact with Hermione – her soft and pliant against him, bony and dry. She was biting her lower lip, still looking only at him as she carefully hovered above him, before bravely sinking herself on him, encasing him. He watched with rapt attention and fuelling desire as she implanted herself on him, kissing him rashly as she abruptly shot down, tearing through her hymen.

His breath stopped as did hers. He had not known. He had supposed, somewhere, that he would not be her first – after all, she was a beautiful witch, who in their right minds would not want Hermione Granger? He was fully sheathed within her, noticing her rapid breathing and her clenched eyes. Drawing her nearer still, he forced himself to not groan at her tightness and her quivering muscles, focusing instead on making her relax.

"Hermione?" he asked carefully when her breathing had slowed and the tense shoulders had disappeared, slightly confused when she looked up at him with a soft smile and allowing her to kiss him, "Why me?" he asked slowly and a smile spread on her lips as she kissed him again, gently beginning their rocking, gasping momentarily as did he.

"Because, it's been you long before I noticed."

And then words were lost to them. He stared deep into her eyes as she found her rhythm, took him along and he gently directed her hips relishing in the feel of her around him and her skin beneath his mouth and fingers. She took her time to get faster learning instead what she liked and not, building them up slowly and Severus let her, allowed her to guide him wherever she wanted him to go – he happily obliged.

It was only when their rhythm fastened that she closed her eyes, sinking towards him and kissing him, he rocked his hips in tandem to hers, leaving her mouth to trail kisses over her shoulders, her neck, her throat and just when he could feel the first fluttering of her, heralding her orgasm, he gently licked her breast, grazing his teeth just so.

Hermione came with an explosion of colours behind her eyes as she shut them with the ferocity of her climax. It crashed over her like a wave and she did nothing to hold it back, simply gave in to the feeling swamping her, hearing Severus groan and bite her neck as he followed her there.


	8. Wrap Up

**The Doctor**

**Wrap-Up**

**I want to thank you all for your constant support, for all the favs and followers and for all the lovely, encouraging reviews. I always have my doubts about the stories I write and it takes me some time to really publish them - it is a good feeling to know that you like them so much, I will remember that in the future when I think about throwing away yet another story. **

* * *

Spent and tired they sat on the couch, still in the winter-garden, still intertwined, a gentle breeze caressing their skin, Hermione's head tucked under Severus'. For a while they were silent, dozing, stroking each other's skin and sharing the occasional kiss.

"You know that I will really not let you go…", Severus said silently, caressing her bare back. Hermione slowly sat up to look directly into his eyes, smiling softly.

"Why should I say yes if it weren't what I wished for?", she asked in silence, but the older wizard still seemed unconvinced.

"My name may be cleared, Hermione, but people are still uncomfortable around me." He thought it was a rather nice way to say that no matter where he went people still hissed insults at him and whenever he sat down in a restaurant or even a Café, he would never be served.

"Severus, our reputation is tarnished and we have a boy that has gray eyes, black hair, freckles and a button nose that neither of us has – what do you think people will say? Of course they will never be pleased", she smiled softly, tucking a lock behind his ear, "but then again, they've never been pleased with us. They won't start now… the essential thing is that you've captured my heart those few years ago and today I haven't gotten it back, quite the contrary actually… and I am pleased with that."

Severus tried to smirk, but his lips mellowed into a smile. Who was he to contradict the witch?

* * *

"So now Severus lives with you?", Minerva asked, sipping her tea, Hermione nodded over her cup.

"Actually, he's quite fond of the mansion. It's really strange sometimes to see him around, and then at times, it's very strange when he's not around because he's at some fair or buying ingredients."

Minerva and Lucinda both smiled, taking in the young mother with her three-month old son. Frederick truly did look nothing like Severus or Hermione, and had instead very weasly-ish traits, as for the freckles and the eyes, while the hair was definitely Lavender Brown's. However the intelligence he showed was certainly something that Hermione had taught him and there was no doubt that with Severus as a father the boy would become ever the prodigy.

"So, what did you want to tell us?", Lucinda asked, referring to the fact that Hermione had asked the two of them for a meet-up.

The young witch's smile broadened as she put down her cup to gather Frederick in her arms and play with his hair as she looked straight at them. "He has come to me to ask me for my hand and I accepted – we will marry in August, Lugnasadh, and I wanted to ask you if you would bear witness to the ceremony."

* * *

To Severus Hermione never looked more beautiful than when she walked into the illuminated clearing of the Forest of Dean that full-moon-night. Her light green dress complimented her pale skin and shining eyes, matching his own, forest-green gown.

The master of ceremony, and old priest who lived as an Emit in an abandoned hut in the Scottish moors - Severus had found him through Albus - nodded approvingly, before he started the last chant – the one that would unite the two of them, intertwine their magic and their souls.

He and Hermione had both agreed on an ancient wedding, instead of a Ministry-based one or even a modern-magical one. All they needed were two witnesses and truly, there were not a lot more people who would attend their marriage anyways – Minerva and Lucinda were just fine, standing behind the priest with their bowls of fire and water.

The chant stopped right when Hermione reached his side, as it should be and Severus lovingly took her hand in his, smiling when both their witnesses threw the golden ribbons around them – representing the final binding. And like that they became husband and wife.

* * *

"Hermione!"

For the first time since he'd seen her again, his wife looked chagrined as the voice tore through Diagon Alley slightly speeding up her walk. Frederick was sitting in his neck, head bent forth and from the laxity of his limbs Severus guessed that he was asleep - had been for probably quite some time already. But Severus could understand the tiredness of his son: they'd been out for hours.

"Hermione.", the call came again, this time accompanied by the hasty tapping of feet – four of them, but his witch still did not turn around. It appeared that she was gathering her breath for something, what he did not know.

"Hermione."

A hand on her shoulder finally decided it for her – turning the young family looked at Ronald Weasley and Harry Potter, not too far behind them Ginevra Potter and Susan Weasley. Ron looked flushed, as did Harry, but they also looked a lot more mature - a beard could do that - though neither of them was wearing wizarding clothes, as Hermione did.

Severus had bought them for her, insisting that as his wife she would be dressed nicely – if only for him – when they went out (and, but he would never say it, because she looked powerful and divine in them). Because Hermione had insisted that they would stop hiding and show the world that they were stronger than everyone supposed.

"Hello.", Hermione breathed, her face showing a measured amount of surprise but nothing more – no gushed words of apology that she'd crossed their way, no yelling of anger at how much she reproached them; Severus could tell that it threw the two young men off their concept. "How can I help you?"

Harry was the first to look ashamed and by trying to look elsewhere, found Severus standing next to Hermione – a sleeping Frederick on his shoulders. Eyes growing wide, he looked now from Hermione to Severus, still mute.

"Yes, Mister Potter?", he drawled though less intimidating than in earlier days – it seemed to tear Ron out of his thoughts though, who now retreated two steps, before he swallowed.

"Mione, what's he doing here?", he asked – unsure if he should hex him or run obviously.

Hermione had to fight hard. She had known that sooner or later they would have crossed ways, but she'd hoped it would be later rather than sooner – faced with the situation, she found that she did not exactly know how to act, and this was slightly slipping out of her control, especially if Severus continued to look at the boys as he did.

True, his look was harmless, simply curious, and his voice was not as biting as they'd known it to be – but it appeared that already his presence shocked them into still-stand… and they wished to revert back to the days when she'd explain everything to them. Hermione cocked her head, finally setting foot on a straight way.

"He's accompanying me, Mister Weasley, I am sure you are aware that ingredients shopping with a child can be quite exhausting.", she answered airily, purposefully facing them fully now and brushing her hair behind her neck – Ron's eyes were instantly glued to the healer-pendant she still wore.

"So why ask him, Hermione?", Harry wanted to know and she looked at her former friend, seeing the two betrotheds come nearer as well, probably hoping to catch a glimpse of their conversation or maybe even participate in it.

This time Hermione could not help herself. "Mister Potter, I do not normally see the reason in answering questions that very obviously should not stand in the interest of strangers. But seeing as you are a war-hero and we all owe you something, I shall answer you three questions, starting with this one.", until now she was quite proud of herself. "Severus helps me with Frederick, because as my husband it would be normal to take care of the child."

There was a long silence in which Ronald's face gained a new color of red and Harry's a new shade of white. Hermione noticed that, unfortunately, they had gained quite the audience and even though she knew it had been her idea – until now neither Severus nor her had gotten a lot of attention and that had been fine with them.

"You married him?", Ronald whispered shell-shocked and Hermione decided that if she extended the grace to Harry, she would extend the same to Ronald. Although she was dumbstruck that he would not notice any resemblances in Frederick and him... he was so much a Weasley boy. Then again, his face was hidden partially by Severus' locks so perhaps that could be the reason.

"Even if I still do not know why this interests you so much, Mister Weasley, yes I did marry him – this August even."

She could hear the murmurs around them, coming from the crowd and wished, for once, that she would not have insisted they went out today… but they needed the ingredients, direly and they couldn't be delivered by owl because they were so unusually volatile.

"Why, Hermione?", Harry finally asked, his face slowly contorting into rage, "Why marry this man when you know what he is! You've fought against him not five years ago! Why marry the man that tortured you for most of your life?!"

Hermione carefully stepped towards Severus and readily slipped her hand into his shaking one – his past was not what bothered him anymore, luckily, but Hermione had learned that he was very touchy when it came to people being unfriendly to her. He'd almost sent an English wizard to the Janus Thickey ward when he'd yelled at her for marrying a Death Eater, whore that she was. They'd agreed on only obliviating the man – though it had taken a lot of convincing from Hermione.

"I marry the man that I love, Mister Potter, surely you have done the same. He came to ask for my hand, when he'd been cleared, because you see – the reason he's still alive is me, and wasn't it by your participation that his name was cleared, Mister Potter? Why should you still doubt?"

Severus' squeezing hand signaled that he was proud of her – Hermione herself was proud of the way she held up. She'd always been easy to anger and she'd always worn her heart on her sleeve, but she had learned over the years, she had matured and this little tête-à-tête showed exactly just how far ahead she was of her peers.

"But then where are your wedding-rings?", Ronald asked baffled, pointing towards their hands. "You don't have any – so all the babble about being married is actually only barmy to rile us up, isn't it Mi?"

Severus intervened, before she could. "Mister Weasley, we did not marry… conventionally. A large wedding would have resulted in us having no guests, or few that would have wished us well, and I assure you that there is only one way to join for soul-mates."

The murmurs in the crowd hushed for a few moments, before they took up again, more silent this time – not all people knew about the ancient rites, but when the word got through the small audience, people waited with baited breaths for the reaction of the interrogators.

"An ancient wedding, Hermione?", Ronald asked baffled, "why would you tie your soul to one as black as his, and why tie your magic to his when he's done nothing but dark arts for his whole life?"

But Hermione only shook her head. "Will you only ever see what people tell you to see, Mister Weasley? Did you never wonder just how you found the sword of Gryffindor – who put it there? Did you never question the fact that Dobby showed up in Malfoy mansion? Mister Weasley," she implored, "did you never ask yourself just who saved your father after the deadly attack of Nagini?"

The crowd was silent, waiting for Harry to say something – anything that would clear this all, he was after all Boy Wonder, surely he knew what to do. But Ronald was angry. "He never did it because he wanted to! He only did because he had to in order to say in Dumbledore's favour! Might I remind you that he killed Dumbledore?!"

"Relief him, would be more the word, Mister Weasley. Professor Dumbledore was cursed by the ring of Slytherin – he would not have made it another month. And as for your father, I cannot ask of you to know it, but to heal a person wounded to such an extent, you need what professionals call a 'Healer intent' – meaning that you wish only good for your patient, how should the man you describe have accomplished this?"

She had trumped Ronald Weasley and Harry Potter in a two-on-one.

The crowd was silent as the young family turned away from the two interrogators, making way for them, awing in new understanding at the stories they had been told.

"Hermione!", Harry called a last time and this time the witch turned around immediately. "Could we… could we start anew?", he asked hopefully.

And then something happened that the crowd would talk off for years. "Mister Harry James Potter, I know it might not happen to you often, but I have come into the pleasure of being your friend once and found, after years, that you did not value a person to stand beside you when everyone else fled, you did not defend a witch innocent of lies, you washed your hands off a story that – as a friend – should have had you getting so angry the wizarding world would still speak of it in a hundred years. Being in this position I negate your offer, respect is the least that I demand to have and never having been given it by you, I do not see the difference in trying anew. Have a good day, Messers and Madams."

Severus spun them away before havoc broke loose.

* * *

"You're mine, mine, mine, mine, mine…" he whispered as he covered her body in kisses, "all mine, Hermione."

Contentedly she sighed into his caresses, closing her eyes and giving in to his gentle ministrations.


End file.
